Brittle And Brief
by Ruiniel
Summary: Oneshot of Aegnor and Andreth by the shore of the Aeluin. AU-ish


**Brittle And Brief**

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Shadow descended upon the highlands of Dorthonion and the host dwelling at its foothills. The night proved all but a short respite from their watch upon the iron waste, now shrouded in the mists of power their strongest foe possessed.

Journeying from Nargothrond where his rule stood, Finrod Felagund of the House of Finarfin had come to meet with his kin. The Siege had long begun. Now he was steadily descending towards the main tent risen in the war camp, used to hold council. He shook his head upon seeing that light still burned within its confines.

"It is late," he said by way of greeting, entering the wide tent, his gaze on his brother.

Aegnor stood before a large table, pouring over scrolls of reports and maps. "Yet Morgoth never rests," he answered thoughtfully, his eyes still on the writings, palms spread flat onto the table. His brow was furrowed in thought and his hair of gold fell straight over his shoulders as he leaned in, imbued with the red light of candles strewn before him. Finrod saw his mind was afire, brooding over strategy and approach to better assess the movements of Angband.

"Aye, and we need not be like he," Finrod Felagund replied, a hand on the other's shoulder. He gripped lightly. "Go, and rest, I have my reports to sift through either way and in truth I long for the peace of it." Heavy was the burden of rule in these turbulent dark lands, and none felt it keener.

Aegnor sighed, righting himself from the table. He looked to Finrod. Ever reasonable and measured were the words of his kin. Many a time his younger brother wished he could muster such. "We set to leave before sunrise," he took a few steps towards the entrance to the tent, turning to Finrod. "You would do well to heed your own advice, brother," and with that, he brought a hand to his chest, and an incline of the head was their farewell for the night.

As his figure emerged into the darkness and cold of the highlands, steady steps followed towards the known path leading to his tent. But enmeshed as he was in thought, his eyes still discerned movement ahead, and undeterred his heart began thundering in his chest. His feet wavered in their steps. Before him, taking to the lake was one whom he would know even in the dimmest darkness of Morgoth's dungeons. And not even the blinding healing shimmer of both Telperion and Laurelin could outshine her inner light. His face took a pained hue as the elf looked to her retreat.

Many nights she had been doing this. Why for, Aegnor knew not, for he never went to her, and never asked. Perhaps she went to muse in peace on whatever wisdom her kin held dear.

Perhaps she thought of him, came the traitorous notion.

His insides writhed then, and aught flared in his breast. Longing, he had come to know. Aye, she surely thought of him, just as she never left his own thoughts.

And those nights the elf would follow, never daring to approach her. He was aware his presence was known to her, and he never thought to hide. He wanted her to know. He knew she saw without seeing. That the mortal woman felt him there, night after night. He would stay, watchful of any peril late until she retired, and nothing more. A distance away, an ocean apart. Aegnor would wish for many things during those lonesome hours, and linger did his eyes, until the longing in his soul turned painful to the end, and not few were the times he nearly betrayed himself. And his struggle must have reached even her, for when she ascended from the bank of the lake she would always pass by him without a word, and her face would shimmer with both new and drying tears.

And now she went again. Despite the lateness of the hour and his mind urging the opposite, Aegnor followed. The Curse crossed his mind and darkened his soul, for how else could he fall so low, and so deep and irreparably that he could barely contain it all? The moment her reflection by the waters of the Aeluin had swayed before his eyes all hope of serenity and reason left him, and the elf knew he was lost.

He lingered by a tree, his hand propped against the harsh bark, his eyes trailing her light steps towards the edge of the lake. Andreth went closer to the waters, her arms wrapped around herself, her figure lithe and frail. Aegnor closed his eyes in remorse and sorrow, willing away thoughts of how well she would come nestled against him. And he watched, as nights past, pondering in turn. His thoughts would ebb and flow but ever return to her. And the elf had never seen her look his way, though she knew he was there. Not for a moment, not for a breath. And Aegnor had no hope nor wish for her to do so now.

Time passed and the stars shone their distant light, and waters rippled in their stillness. Then, suddenly, with both immense joy and black dread he saw her dark hair swaying about her as Andreth turned her head. Over her shoulder she looked, and though his sight was beyond compare and his senses sharp and clear, the elf could not see whether she looked to him or no. But she must have, and now guilty hope brimmed in his chest. Her gaze turned back to the lake.

Then he wondered if perhaps she had always waited there, for him? Had she hoped he would come? With a barely contained tremor in his limbs, his body not his own to master any longer, his booted feet were silent in their faltering steps. In a haze the elf lord walked, driven by a compulsion beyond will. He went towards the lake, closer. To her.

"Saelind," the elf called disturbing their silence, and his voice came foreign to his ears.

Andreth stirred not, nor did she turn to face him. But Aegnor heard her quickening heartbeat, and it thrummed through him as if it were his own, kindling the fire they had so unexpectedly awoken in each other.

He waited, his own heart in a bloodied vice. Barely did he keep himself from spilling what he so wished for her to hear. But then, as her shoulders rose and fell in a deep sigh, Aegnor allowed his soul to lead. One step and then another, and he was stood behind her, even as every seam and recess of his being warned for a retreat.

"I have been pondering," Andreth then spoke, raising her head to the stars. And Aegnor looked to the lake, seeing the same stars reflected within black watery depths. "On how your kin sees us, so brittle and brief compared to you. And yet friendships among our kindreds still bloom, and some even blossom far," she said sadly unto the moonless skies. "But nothing more."

"Not once have I thought of you as brittle," the words spilled from him then, and the desperation in his voice frightened him. Hesitatingly, he reached for her arm.

And Andreth felt him so alive and near, as she had but in thought so many times before. But now the pressure of light fingers to her sides was real, as was the warmth which was not her own. It meshed with hers, and Andreth knew little chance of escape. "Yet nothing but your everlasting pity is bestowed upon us," she spoke, eyes unfocused as she looked to her left. Andreth closed her eyes when he came nearer still, the shift in space a torment. But she had not known peace either way, not since that day. Arms wound around her, commanding her body into him and so she was lost, the scent and presence of him shattering all manner of reason.

The elf was saddened further by her words, for they were bitter and regretful, and infused with the hurt of one wronged. He had never meant to wrong her, no more than he had meant to love her. But were he to speak of his affection, it would only wrong her further. "I never pitied you," the elf spoke against her neck. "Never, Saelind."

Andreth tilted her head to his, felt the side of his face pressing against hers, all so new and strong and overwhelming. His skin on hers was nothing she would ever feel again, of this the young woman was certain. And he was ever closer, his arms now impossibly tight around her.

They had spoken of it. And though she was broken with the outcome, the woman strove to understand why it was to be this way. The reasons Andreth had accepted with the brevity of one doomed, all the while having to look into his eyes, to see the opposite meaning to his words.

And now, despite this understanding here they were, and Andreth could cast him away no more than he could leave her be. With this she knew the weakness of Men ruled within her, howling for what could never come to pass. It was that which allowed the elf to turn her so she faced him. His eyes were as bright as the stars above them, his features imbued with light in the depth of night.

"If it were solely left to me," he spoke pleadingly, the hurt plain on his face for her to see, "I would take you to be mine." His eyes were feverish, smoldering. It frightened her, but it also drew her hopelessly in. "We would... we would flee far away, all this be damned." His forehead rested lightly against hers. She was of music, as both the First and Second Children were. But the Edain were of different fates, and never would elf and human meet again in death. "But I cannot," his words left him as he looked back into her eyes, cowed by her strength and patience. He cupped her small face with his palms. Her lower lip quivered. Met with no resistance and lost in his yearning, he pressed his lips lightly to her cheek.

Her breathing nearly ceased at the feel of him. Andreth found her knees were failing and so leaned into the elf, feeling irate and miserable and elated all at once.

And he could only follow, threatening to burn through his own will and break what remained of his resolve. So hungrily his mouth trailed over her skin in slow agony, until it was lightly pressed over her own. And beyond reason as he was, the elf felt her tense, and somewhere in him, there was a dark and selfish shiver.

For many moments Andreth neither returned the kiss, nor did she shun him. But then he felt the heat of her against his lips, following him faithfully and just as eager.

The scent she had only dreamed of now dazed the young woman into a sweet and powerful haze akin to a spell, and somehow the lake was no more, the dark canopy of endless trees was no more, and Andreth came to know only him. Her arm reached around his neck, and she felt his lips open against hers. A new world was made known to her. He was of silk, of wonder and freshness and yet, a taste of that which she would never truly have. A sliver of resent and hurt coiled deep within but the pull was stronger. He was kindling a new, simmering flame, and the woman felt so ignited by the merest touch it scared her. He felt so very good, and now Andreth saw he tasted better, and she became a flaming pyre in his arms.

The elf knew this was all there would be, and his eyes became full from the injustice of it all even as they followed each other in this eternal pursuit. He raged at the unfairness of it. That two kindreds of opposite fates should feel so completely and truly for one another, and for nothing to come of it. Might he have honored her still, until the world ended, until she was old and grey and he would need bear her everywhere in his arms?

Andreth felt his grief, warm upon her face, his panting chest rivaling her own, and so noticed how her own hands clutched at him grudgingly and fervently, never wanting to release. But she must.

And so the young one reluctantly severed the bliss of his kiss, drawing back in what was to be the hardest trial she would remember in the after days. She watched his parted lips, then met his eyes. Bereft of words, the maiden drank in the vision she would keep close ever after, until the day she journeyed beyond the circles of the world.

And Aegnor the steadfast, whose eyes they say burned with flames of wrath in the midst of battle, fell to his knees, defeated before young Andreth of the kindred of Men. His arms never left her, and his hands were hopelessly clasping her body, his head bowed against her soothing womb.

Slight fingers twined in his hair, and the elf sighed in both abandon and guilt for what he had begun.

"I do not want to cause you pain," he spoke into her. "I feel it strong within you. And though there is no comfort in this for you, know that it is my own. Forgive me, Saelind."

Andreth listened, and no more could she do. The stars reflecting in her eyes, she cradled his head to her while all still spun about her. Her lips, now cold and reddened, craved his still. The world faded with his closeness, and silence drowned in the rise and fall of his chest.

"You are forgiven, Aegnor son of Finarfin, for you are no guiltier than I," the elf heard her murmur, and though her words were heralds of peace, he knew there was no chance for him to ever know such again.

Then gently Andreth pried herself from him, and he let her, his hands falling to his sides.

As she began to walk away the elf remained behind on his knees. His body was aflame, beleaguered with need, but duty was a heavy chain, and it was strung in endless knots around his feet. War knew no marriage among the Eldar, just as death knew no master. And these were not times for love.

"Why tonight, of all nights? Why did you turn, Saelind?" he found his words, and the strength to ask before she departed too far.

Andreth ceased in her steps then, and with her back to him, a saddened smile lay hidden. "For you have never come to me yourself, and on the morrow, you are gone."

So she had been waiting. Fingers digging into his palms, his resolution crumbled into dust. As the elf was about to rise and seek her anew, throwing all his decisions to the wind, Andreth spoke. It was the last time, and the words would stay with him until his end.

"What I feel will never wither as I would. And though I grieve so for being denied, never doubt the wisdom of your choice. I find that I cannot resent you, though it all feels like a punishment and seems born of pride. I have freely relinquished myself, and so it will remain. Farewell, Aegnor brother of Finrod. I will wait for you, though I know not where."

"Saelind."

Into the silence he called again, softly, using the name bestowed upon her by his people; it withered into the air, laced with the misery of his longing. But he was weak, and afraid of his own heart more than the Edain feared death, and so he remained still as a stone on the floors of bottomless seas. Daggers were her footsteps receding in the dark. The earth was cold under his feet, and the deeps of the night witnessed his tears in silence.

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**A/N:**

**"Saelind" = "Wise-heart", the name given to Andreth by the Eldar**

**I chose to use the Sindarin forms for proper names in this fan fiction. My assumption was Andreth and Aegnor lived in a time where Sindarin was being adopted in detriment to Quenya (for reasons you already know). **

**I have long loved this tale, but the will and cohesion to write a fan fic piece on the topic only recently materialized. It was triggered by a very good story on the subject of human/elf relationships and their doom. The author had hinted a parallel between the protagonists and the tale of Aegnor and Andreth. I think I owe it to them that this came about.**

**If I may, I would recommend said story - it is called _"Of Dust and Everlasting Stars" by CygnusRift. _**

**Beautifully written and long enough to feed any reader's hunger. Thank you CygnusRift, for rekindling this inspiration. **


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